As we approached the southern end of New Caledonia, it was evening and getting dark. Not a good time to be nearing an extensive area of shallows and reefs, especially with 30 knots of wind behind us and a chunky south east swell. The original plan was to stop in a protected bay for the night, get some rest, and move on. I generally won’t go near new shores or anchorages at night (even with a full moon), which would mean we’d need to hang around at sea for the night and go in at first light the next day. Spending a night at sea not going anywhere needs a motive, so I called a pow-wow to confirm that everyone did indeed want to stop, and that we weren’t in one of those situations where everyone was going along with the plan just because it was the plan, against their inner wishes. After discussing the pros and cons, we decided to stick to it. We hove to (turned the boat sideways and put the sails in a position where we just drifted slowly), and Dave took the first watch. I never sleep well when we’re getting close to land (fortunately!) so I took over at 11pm and snoozed on and off in the cockpit until dawn, keeping an eye on our drift speed and direction. At the first glimmer of light I loosened the sheets and we charged off again, towards Ile de Pins – Pine Island.
By mid morning, we had the anchor down in Kuto Bay. So quiet. When we’ve been at sea for days, and then come in to anchor, I realise quite how much non-stop sound and motion there is on the boat while we’re on passage. It feels so good to just stand in the middle of the cabin, not holding onto anything, eyes closed, soaking up the peace. A quick tidy up, and ocean going vessel suddenly turns into cosy home again. All I can hear is the gentle swush of small surf on the beach a hundred yards away, the odd car going by, and distant bird and insect noises. The sun has come out – first we’ve seen of it in days, it’s warm and comfortable. Time for a swim! Cold water. And then the luxury of a fresh water shower, the first in weeks.
We went ashore for a couple of hours as illegal immigrants – we’re not checking into New Caledonia as the nearest Port of Entry is Noumea; miles and miles away, and we’re only stopping for a night. Nobody’s going to trouble us here. There are a couple of other boats in the anchorage, but otherwise it’s pretty empty. One hotel ashore is quiet; it’s mid winter and definitely off-season.
The vegetation is amazing. Called “Pine Island” for pretty obvious reasons, the tall spindly pines, not like ones I’ve seen in Europe or the USA, grow in and around coconut palms and twisted tropical deciduous trees. There are low scrubby bushes, and also a type of pine with little spiky seeds/cones that look like mini pineapples, about the size of an olive. Just like the ones we found as kids on the beach in Kenya, but these trees have soft rather than stiff needles. Up close, the needles look like articulated spiders legs with hundreds of joints. I walk around for a couple of hours barefoot, soaking up the feeling of the land through the soles of my feet. The sand on the beach is fine, white, powdery. All across the Pacific so far it’s been coarse, broken shells. My skin enjoys the softness as I wander along. There’s seaweed on the beach; soft and squidgy where it’s washed by the waves, and crispy above the tide line where it’s dried out. Pretty looking gulls with red beaks squawk at each other. Swifts fly around – I wonder are they stopping here en route somewhere else, like us, or is this their home?
Back on the boat I get a couple of jobs done, and then get a call on the radio to say that Dave and Eva are ready and need picking up. The engine packs up just as I get to the beach, right where the swell is breaking – I have to hop over the side in water up to my chest to hold the dinghy steady while I try and restart it. No joy, so I get the oars out and make the pickup under human power as it starts raining.
After a long and peaceful night’s rest, we’re now off again for another ten or so days at sea – the last long passage. We’ve got twenty knots of breeze on our beam, and are flying along at six to seven knots. Yesterday’s swell has died down, and the motion is comfortable. Long may it last. Australia here we come!
Some pictures from the passage from Tonga :
Oh, and we caught a FISH! So there are some left in the Pacific after all … this fella fed us all for 5 meals straight. Tuna for dinner, lunch and breakfast for a couple of days, and sushi as fresh as it gets. Mmm.
Road and Ocean 